Poetry Dark

Left in the Dark

Her personality colorful like autumn

leaves. Her hug had the warmth of

a family Christmas morning. Her laugh left

you dizzy like spinning, before tumbling

into the grass. Days with her you were a bike

no longer needing training wheels zooming cautiously

but triumphantly. Her smile shined like a full moon


on a clear summer night. The news hit

like gasping for air after falling from a barren tree

onto packed snow. Her suffering like the first Christmas

Santa was a lie and the

magical merriment dissipated. The last days

like standing too quickly, eyes

struggling to fight the black haze. She withered away

like blistered hands slipping from monkey bars before

hitting unforgiving ground. Her absence left me locked

in a dark room, fumbling for a light

switch that cannot be found.

Creative Writing

I will die…

I will die in a small town no one’s heard of

On a day when the birds are chirping

A day like most other days, a day in passing.

My children will be at my funeral cloaked in black,

A face of stone, emotions they lack

Handshakes, condolences, sturdy nods, and a few laughs.


It will be a Monday

Just as when my eyes first peered

into the bright light.

But now I’ll be six feet underground

in an eternal goodnight.



Poem Creative Writing

Wooden Pencil

You forget I once led

the way for John Steinbeck when

The Grapes of Wrath was not yet ripe. A doodle

necessity for Van Gogh


through many starry nights. I’ve flown across parchment

and paper by the pages like a hummingbird

racing from flower to flower

never still. I’ve exposed your most sensual

of secrets you’d never tell. Your friends

have whispered privy thoughts

in your ear, forgetting I’m tucked just above,


I too can hear. But you’ve

still forgotten. Erased

from your memory, I am alone and

broken. Chewing away at my heart for years,

you now push me aside. When computers

first arrived I thought I had nothing to


fear. I’m no longer lucky

to you. There are no more secrets

I can tell. You make me feel like

there is no point anymore. I guess

I’ll always just be your #2.

Swim Poem Blog


The faded blue podium stood

highlighted by generators awaiting

my wrinkled toes. The splashing of water.

Indistinct cheering. My name sounded

from a man’s scratchy megaphone. Echoed by

my family’s praises, I walked from the mushy grass

to the warn wooden platform. Standing steady


as chlorine dripped

from my damp hair an added weight was secured

around my neck. My body felt heavy,

my mouth dry. The enticing aroma of popcorn

like that from the movies, made me long for

the fast food feast that awaited me once


the pictures subsided. Wrapped

in my favorite blue hoodie, the long drive

was sure to bring visions of first place.